Lifemark

By Kendrick Bros. LLC and Chris Fabry

For eighteen years, she tried to believe she had made the right decision—for him.

But if she never saw him again, how could she ever be sure?

Melissa had clung to the thin thread of hope given by the adoption agency that someday her newborn son might want to connect with her. When his eighteenth birthday arrived, she called the agency to simply update her contact information, not expecting a response.

Susan and Jimmy Colton had raised their boy with openness about his adoption. After the heartbreaking loss of two infant sons that marked their early years of marriage, they promised themselves they would try not to hold too tightly to David or hold back any information he wanted about his birth. And so they waited on him.

David was hesitant to talk about the questions and curiosities about his birth story that often haunted him. But as he neared adulthood, his need to know the full story of his life became something he couldn’t shake. Until the call came to the Coltons from the adoption agency, and the first tentative bits of communication and connection set in motion a story that would change all their lives forever.

From the team that brought you the movies Courageous and War Room comes Lifemark, the novelization of the new film inspired by a true story of adoption, redemption, and hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
• Release date: Aug 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781496461292

Book preview

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

The lake sat at the end of a winding dirt road on the outskirts of Columbus, Indiana, forty miles south of Indianapolis. Water rippled muddy brown this time of year because of spring rain runoff that collected and funneled into the lake from three directions. The deepest end of the lake was best for fishing and on this late afternoon, two teenage girls sat on the rock ledge looking down at their lines in the water.

Kelly White was doing more talking than fishing, as usual. She had long blonde hair and stood barely an inch over five feet tall. She’d weigh a hundred pounds if she jumped in the river and got weighed as soon as she climbed out. Because of her height and the way she moved, walking with the confidence of a top-level athlete, most boys in high school thought she was a gymnast or maybe a dancer. She was neither. She just liked boys and liked to walk as if they were watching every step. And the reason she’d agreed to meet her friend Melissa at the lake was not to fish but to talk about a boy she was interested in who was a year older.

Melissa Long, eighteen and a senior at Fleetwood High, stood on the rocks and cast her line about halfway across the lake. She was six inches taller than Kelly and nobody thought she was a dancer or a gymnast. In fact, most people didn’t notice Melissa, or so she thought. She was the kind of girl you might miss in a yearbook, just pass her picture and keep turning pages. And her face had a quality to it that made her look different in each photo, like she was able to morph and change with whatever group was around her.

Melissa had long brown hair that curled from a recent perm she’d convinced a friend to give her—a hairdo in a box she’d bought at the drugstore on sale, buy one get one free. She couldn’t afford a salon. Couldn’t afford food, for that matter, which was why she was fishing. She’d saved up for the perm and it had turned out less frizzy than she’d feared. Her friend who had applied all the chemicals said she almost looked pretty.

Green eyes and an easy smile hid some of the pain beneath the layers of her life. Those who noticed her, who lingered on the picture or studied her in class, thought she was looking for something she hadn’t found. And it was true—Melissa was on a search. You could see it in her eyes, though she wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint exactly what she was looking for.

Her bobber settled and she watched it move on the undulating surface, the wind picking up. When Kelly reeled her line in, Melissa frowned and said, Stop doing that every ten seconds. The goal is to catch a fish, not scare them away.

You reeled yours in. Why can’t I?

Just leave it in the water.

I think something took my bait, Kelly said. She finished reeling and lifted the rod and the hook swung empty. See. Told you. Put another minnow on for me.

Melissa shook her head. Bait your own hook, Barbie.

I can do it, but I don’t like the smell. It never bothers you. Kelly dropped the rod and lay on a flat rock with her hands behind her head, staring at the clouds. The ones overhead were white and rounded, like vanilla ice cream in a cone. Others to the south were darker, a chocolaty-gray, and they seemed to be moving toward them.

When you get out in the big bad world, you’re going to wish you knew how to do things like this, Melissa said, picking up Kelly’s rod. She baited the hook and cast the line to the right in a good spot, knowing this wasn’t for Kelly, it was for her. She needed a fish or two to take home.

What’s baiting a hook going to do for me in the big bad world? Tell me that.

It’s not about baiting your hook. It’s about being able to do something on your own instead of needing others. If you can’t bait your own hook, you won’t last long out there.

Is that your philosophy of life?

That’s the truth. Period.

Kelly studied the cloud formations as Melissa felt a strike on her line. She set the hook and reeled in an eighteen-inch crappie, holding it up with a thumb through the gill.

Look how shiny he is. Like a silver dollar.

How do you know it’s not a she?

Melissa ignored the question and put the fish on the stringer and put it back in the water with the two others she’d caught. She grabbed another minnow from the bucket and held it tightly as she passed the hook through the eyes. It pained her to hurt the tiny fish, but the hunger inside pushed her past that. She pulled the rod back and cast the line again, the bobber hitting with a plop, and checked the other line. The bobber floated steady.

Tell me what he said again, Kelly said.

Tell you what who said?

You know who. Lee. What did he say to Brian about me?

Lee’s nothing but bad news. Why are you hanging around him?

You need me to explain? She sat up. He’s cuter than Justin Timberlake, has bigger muscles, too. What’s not to like?

I’m telling you he’s bad news. You’re a dog chasing a car. What are you going to do when you catch him?

I’ll figure it out when it happens.

Nothing good is going to come from you chasing him.

Kelly scoffed. Like you’re one to talk.

What’s that mean?

It means you ought to look in the mirror.

Melissa scowled and rolled her eyes, her back to her friend. Brian’s not like Lee. He’s one of the good ones.

Right. And you’re not chasing after him at all, are you? Sharon said . . . She stopped, evidently thinking better of finishing the thought.

Melissa turned. Sharon said what?

Nothing.

Melissa put a hand on her hip. What did she say?

Kelly dipped her head like a second grader who had been taught not to tattle. But Melissa saw a glint in her friend’s eyes as she glanced up. She was enjoying this.

Sharon said she saw you going into Brian’s apartment. With a suitcase.

Melissa tried not to react. So? I’m staying there for a while.

Right. She said you two are practically married. Hanging all over each other in the hallway. Said you’ve moved in with him.

A glance at the bobber. You know what it’s like at my house.

Yeah. But Sharon said you’d be staying there no matter how messed up your family is. Said you’re head over heels.

Melissa kept her back turned and tried not to smile. She hated that others were talking about her, especially Sharon. What a pain. She was from the other side of the tracks, a better neighborhood—her dad was a lawyer or something. Sharon always had her nose in the air and looked down on others, but Melissa had to admit, at least to herself, that she wasn’t far from the truth. Melissa was in love. She’d found the one. And it was the real thing, not some high school crush. She’d had those before. No, she and Brian had something special. Every time she heard that Whitney Houston song on the radio, she saw his face and that crooked smile of his and she sang along—I will always love you. Well, she didn’t actually sing, she mouthed the words, but it was the same. They had found each other, him with his family problems a mirror to hers. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. And he felt the same about her.

Thunder sounded in the distance. Melissa reeled in her line, the bobber skipping across the water and leaving a V in its wake. She picked up Kelly’s and did the same.

Come on, tell me, Kelly said. What did Lee say to Brian about me?

A big sigh. Lee likes you. Thinks you’re pretty. Gorgeous.

He said that? He called me gorgeous?

Not with words, more with grunts. Like a caveman. He’s not a good guy, Kelly. But I can tell I’m not going to be able to talk sense into you.

Kelly rose and stretched, yawning. Her shirt rose above her pierced navel. He thinks I’m gorgeous.

Melissa grabbed the stringer of fish from the water and dumped the bucket of minnows into the lake. Here, take the rods. We need to get back before the rain comes.

They walked the dirt road near a cornfield with plants that peeked out of the ground as if looking for the sky. In the summer the corn would be higher than Melissa’s head, and she made a mental note to come back when she could grab a few ears for supper without being seen. Who would miss a few ears of corn?

What’s Brian going to do after graduation? Kelly said, trudging behind. He got that planned out?

The question touched a nerve and made Melissa queasy. She answered a little too quickly, her voice sounding uncertain. He’ll find a job. He’s just concentrating on finishing school first.

A flash of lightning in the distance and then a low rumble. They picked up their pace, approaching a hackberry tree that towered above them.

They’re closing down a section of the plant where my dad works, Kelly said. He might have to drive to Indianapolis . . .

Kelly’s voice faded as her friend’s face changed. Melissa put the stringer in the grass and dropped the minnow bucket. Running to the tree, she put her hand on the trunk and leaned forward. She hadn’t had anything for lunch, so nothing came up but acid water, but her stomach clenched and she couldn’t stop the churning.

When she could finally stand, her hand still on the tree and her head spinning, she saw Kelly studying her.

Something you ate? Kelly said.

Probably.

Two hours later, as the downpour subsided, Melissa walked through the puddles along the street and into the pharmacy, shaking the water from her hair like a wet dog. She pulled a plastic bag from under her shirt and waited by the makeup until there was no line at the cash register and put the bag before a man she didn’t recognize. Then she stared at her hands and wondered if the man smelled the fish that lingered.

What’s this?

I want to return it.

He untied the bag and looked inside. Got a receipt?

She shook her head. I just bought it a couple of weeks ago.

If you don’t have a receipt—

I don’t want cash. I just want store credit. To exchange it for something else.

Was there something wrong with it?

No. I never opened it.

Before he could respond, she hurried to an aisle in the back by the pharmacy, found what she needed, and returned to the front. A woman the age of her mother stood at the register, leafing through dollar bills, a plastic rain bonnet on her head. A greeting card sat on the counter, and the woman handed the bills to the man and turned, spotting what Melissa held in her hands before she could hide it.

The woman looked up at Melissa, pursed her lips and shook her head, and took the greeting card and the receipt and left.

I want to exchange it for this, Melissa said, putting the pregnancy test kit beside the unused home perm box she’d bought. I think they’re about the same price.

The man stared at the two items before him as if he were trying to figure out some complicated mathematical theorem. Or was it a postulate? Melissa hadn’t done well in geometry and had opted for consumer math instead of algebra. Unless some miracle happened, she wasn’t going to college. And if you weren’t going to college, who needed algebra or calculus?

The man looked up at her again and started to say something but held back. When he’d done his calculation, he said, You’re four dollars short.

She dug in both pockets of her cutoffs. She knew there were no bills there, just coins. She placed eighty-seven cents on the counter. That’s all I’ve got.

You’re still short.

Someone pushed a cart behind her. She looked at the cashier and could tell from his eyes she needed to fish or cut bait. She scraped the coins into her hand and grabbed the perm box, thrust it into the plastic bag, and walked out the door.

The rain came harder and sideways now, and she stood under the eave in the only dry spot on the sidewalk, in the white glow of fluorescence. She only needed three dollars and change but at the moment it felt like three million. She could go back and ask Brian, but he’d want to know what it was for and besides, she knew he didn’t have any money by the fact that he had no cigarettes left.

The door opened and a ding sounded behind her. Then someone said, Excuse me.

Melissa turned.

I couldn’t help overhearing. A woman had her purse open, fishing for something. She pulled out a five-dollar bill and held it out. I hope this will help you.

You don’t have to do that, Melissa said as she took the bill.

I know. It’s just something I feel the . . . well, I want you to have it. And I want you to know that He sees you.

Melissa looked behind her, then back at the woman. Who sees me?

She smiled and put a hand on Melissa’s shoulder. Then she walked into the rain.

Melissa went back inside the store.

When Melissa came out of the bathroom, she found Brian watching wrestling on the TV he’d been given for Christmas when he was fourteen. She stood beside it, and when he didn’t look at her, she turned it off.

Hey, I was watching that!

When he looked at her face, he stopped protesting and sat up. What’s wrong? You look like a muskrat, by the way.

Thanks. That’s a sweet thing to say.

I just meant your hair. Where’d you go, anyway?

Drugstore. She sat beside him and held out the pregnancy test. I bought this.

Is it a thermometer?

She handed it to him and he held it closer, studying the section where the test showed a plus sign.

It’s a thing you pee on to tell you if you’re pregnant.

His mouth dropped and he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. After what seemed like an ice age he said, Why would you need to buy this?

Maybe if I give you a little more time, you’ll figure it out?

He looked at her, then back at the object in his hand. You think you might be pregnant?

I’ve been sick to my stomach every morning for the past week.

What does it say?

Says you’re going to be a father.

The air seemed to leave the room for both of them.

Whoa.

Is that all you can think to say?

He looked at her again. I didn’t . . . I mean . . . I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?

She saw him all blurry now, like in one of those hall-of-mirrors rooms at the county fair. She wiped her eyes and tried to stay in control, but her chin quivered and she couldn’t stop it, and she hated that. She’d sat in the bathroom for a half hour after the test turned positive while a wave of emotion and fear swept over her. What she hadn’t prepared for in all of that was the unexpected feeling that crept up on her. Something she couldn’t tell Brian.

Brian put the pregnancy test on the TV tray by the couch. Both had been given to him by a friend who was going to haul them to the dump, along with a kitchen table and a broken refrigerator. Brian had taken them and had duct-taped the broken table leg and wedged it in the corner of the kitchen so it would stand.

What are you going to do? he said.

Melissa pulled her head back, then looked away. Her face felt hot all of a sudden and she clenched her fists. She’d had fights with Brian, but she’d never felt this way before. What am I going to do? Is that your question?

Yeah, I mean, what do you want me to ask you?

"How about, what are we going to do? You’re part of this, you know."

I know that. His eyes got soft and he reached out to touch her shoulder, but she moved away. The couch cushions sagged. She grabbed the edge and pulled herself up, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

We’re not ready, Melissa. I don’t have a job. I’m behind on the rent. There’s no food. I’m not going to my mom for help and I know you don’t want to go to your dad.

He was right about all of that. And there were more reasons they weren’t ready and shouldn’t be having a baby. But Melissa couldn’t shake the feeling she’d had in the bathroom. Mixed in with all the fear and shame and feeling stupid for not being more careful and a hundred other bad thoughts was a single word that rose to the surface like a rainbow trout in her heart.

Mother.

She was going to be a mother. And there was something about that word, something about the concept, that made her feel alive. That tingle inside surprised her. On one hand, she felt like a million bricks had collapsed on top of her. She couldn’t breathe. And there was nobody she could tell because she knew what they’d think, what they’d say.

At the same time—and it was the strangest thing to feel this way—she sensed there was something good growing inside her. But every time she thought of that, another brick would fall and snap her back to reality.

What do you think we should do, then? Brian said.

I don’t know.

CHAPTER 2

A week after Melissa placed the positive pregnancy test in his hands, Brian parked next to a dingy gray building that sat in the shadow of I-65. Above was a half-lit sign that should have read Pawn-a-Palooza, but at night you could only see one a, one P, and the looz. The business didn’t need a sign for its clientele. Anybody who wanted fast cash or a little offtrack betting or the perpetual poker game in one of the back rooms knew this was the place.

Brian winced from neck pain that had been nagging him all day. He’d slept on it wrong or maybe strained a muscle trying to fix some of their furniture. He kept tilting his head and stretching to try to work it out.

Maybe it was the stress of Melissa’s news. He shook that thought away and carried a boom box into the store. It was only a month ago that he’d bought it. He’d had extra cash back then and it seemed like a good idea.

He placed the boom box on the counter in front of a burly man with a beard and bloodshot eyes the color of an Indiana sunset.

The man glanced at it, then looked up at him. We don’t deal with stolen items.

I didn’t steal it. I bought it a month ago.

What’s wrong with it?

Nothing. It works great.

Why don’t you take it back to the store where you bought it, then?

I did. They said I needed a receipt. They only offered a store credit, and I need cash.

How much did you pay for it?

Three hundred.

The man scowled. He pointed to an overflowing shelf of car radios and older boom boxes. When Brian turned his head, a pain shot through his neck and he grabbed it.

I already got radios like that.

But this one’s almost new.

The man stared at the boom box, then picked it up and looked it over. How much you want?

Two eighty.

No way. I’ll give you two hundred. Take it or leave it.

Brian looked down and rubbed his neck again. The woman who answered the phone at the abortion clinic in Indianapolis had said they needed $220. He’d called three in the area, and theirs was the lowest price. He hadn’t told Melissa any of that. He didn’t want her to say they didn’t have enough money for the procedure.

He also needed ten bucks for something to eat.

Brian leaned forward and spoke with a humble tone, hoping the man would read between the lines. I need it for my girlfriend.

The man’s eyebrows went up. You want to trade for an engagement ring? We got some nice ones down here in—

I’m not looking for a ring. I need the cash. I need $230. He swallowed hard and locked eyes. She’s in trouble. We’re in trouble.

The man studied him a moment, then stepped toward the register and took out $230.

In Brian’s mind there was only one answer to their predicament. When your car was headed toward a cliff, you turned the wheel and slammed on the brakes. You let your instincts take over. Simple as that.

But he could tell there was something going on in Melissa. Her instincts were telling her something else, and he felt it was up to him to guide her instead of forcing her. So on the way home he spent ten bucks to pick up dinner from Melissa’s favorite fast-food restaurant, Taco Bell.

In the apartment, he put the brown bag on the table and called for her. No answer. He pecked on the closed bathroom door.

Hey, I brought you something.

She groaned and her voice echoed like her head was in a bucket. Be there in a minute.

The food was cold by the time she came out. Her face was one shade less than marshmallow, and she had one hand on her stomach and the other wiping sweat from her forehead. When she saw the food, she scrunched her face in disbelief.

Where’d you get the money for this?

It’s a surprise. Come on and eat.

She shook her head and made another face. That’s not very appetizing right now.

You love Taco Bell. I got you nachos.

She swallowed hard. The smell turns my stomach. Why didn’t you ask me? I would have told you to get me some saltines.

Fine. Brian